


from the passenger seat

by aominedaikis



Series: nine times nine [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, brief mention of Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, some appearances by Miya Osamu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25148899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aominedaikis/pseuds/aominedaikis
Summary: Atsumu’s fingers still on the steering wheel. There’s only silence filling in the truck now. It's almost enough for Rintarou to want to do something about it. But then Atsumu says, “I wanna take you somewhere. Ya comin’?”This time, Rintarou doesn’t hesitate to climb into the front seat next to Atsumu.or, the story of how a truck became a shared love language between miya atsumu and suna rintarou.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Suna Rintarou
Series: nine times nine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831675
Comments: 28
Kudos: 199





	from the passenger seat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stormhund](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormhund/gifts).



> this fic is honestly a result of atsusuna brainrot thanks to their cameo in meg's osaaka fics [new love in old places](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24838069/chapters/60082078) and [songs to listen to in the backseat of my brother's car](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25035502), hence why i'm gifting this fic to her. some parts of this fic are also taken from meg's headcanons in her osaaka fics, so if you're into osaaka, give her fics a read!
> 
> anyways, as a note, while writing this fic i imagined ejp raijin's home base to be hiroshima, because i've seen people speculate that they're based on the jt thunders, which is based in hiroshima. not that it's important in the grand scheme of things, but i _did_ mention it, so just thought i should clarify.

_1._

“You got a truck for your birthday.”

Atsumu shrugs.

“A _truck_ ,” Rintarou repeats in disbelief. He’s still leaning against the back door and having a weird staring contest with Atsumu.

Osamu rolls down the driver seat window. He pokes his head out to give Rintarou a look. “Are ya comin’ or not?” he asks. “‘Tsumu, tuck him in the backseat or somethin’. We’re gonna be late.”

“I don’t need you to tuck me in,” Rintarou says. He continues to stare down Atsumu, then Osamu. “I didn’t ask you to pick me up for school. And why’re you driving Atsumu’s car?”

Osamu ignores him to roll his window up again. Atsumu—to his credit—doesn’t manhandle him, but the second he peels himself off the door, Atsumu, in true Atsumu fashion, yanks the door open and shoves him into the backseat. “Ya heard ‘Samu,” he says, smirking.

Rintarou gives him the middle finger in return.

_2._

“What the fuck, Rin,” Atsumu whines when Rintarou climbs into the backseat, bag carelessly thrown into the passenger seat. “Is this how ya treat yer driver?”

Rintarou leans back against the car door and stretches his legs out. “Yes,” he says, not missing a beat.

Atsumu glances over his shoulder to glare at him. There’s something unpleasant about the curl of his lips. “Alright, lemme get this straight with ya,” he starts, and Rintarou has no choice but to put his phone down to look at Atsumu. “I’m takin’ ya home because I was stayin’ late with ya to clean up, and yer gonna be a bitch and not even keep me company out front? Where’s yer respect, Rin?”

“You offered,” Rintarou points out. “Said something about feeling bad for me for having to take the bus and getting home late.”

Atsumu shuts his mouth. But he’s still glaring, so Rintarou sighs, sits up and leans forward a little. His forehead is almost touching Atsumu’s now. “Could’ve just told me to drop dead on my feet instead of forcing me to come with you,” he adds. He doesn’t miss the way Atsumu jerks back from their physical closeness, just a little. He pulls back, too, if only to look Atsumu in the eyes properly. “Also, the only reason why you stayed to clean up is because that was captains’ duty.”

“I hate ya,” Atsumu concludes, but the fight is gone from his eyes and his lips pull into something a little softer.

“No, you don’t.”

_3._

It’s the day after graduation when Atsumu pulls up in his driveway at ten in the morning—alone.

“Where’s Osamu?” Rintarou asks, eyes still bleary from sleep when he plops himself down in the backseat.

Past experiences tell him that the twins are usually always at the front, bickering, —sometimes Atsumu drives, sometimes Osamu does—so it’s a force of habit at this point that Rintarou makes his way to the back when he sees Atsumu’s truck. He’d make himself comfortable in the backseat, —sometimes with Ginjima, when he’s along for the ride—eyes closed and legs stretched out, —on Ginjima’s lap, when he’s around—listening to whatever Osamu and Atsumu want to argue about on that particular ride.

It’s tradition, almost.

But today there’s no Ginjima, no Osamu, and it’s just Atsumu in the driver’s seat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Rintarou waits.

Atsumu answers, “At home. Probably still sleepin’. Y’know how it is, first day free and all that stuff.”

Rintarou does. He’d be in bed, too, if it isn’t for the fact that his mother had barged into his room saying that, “Your friend with the truck is here.”

He looks at Atsumu. Atsumu’s eyes are still fixed forward, even though there’s nothing but the sight of Rintarou’s house stretching across the windshield.

“What are we doing today?” Rintarou asks, again.

Atsumu’s fingers still on the steering wheel. There’s only silence filling in the truck now. It's almost enough for Rintarou to want to do something about it. But then Atsumu says, “I wanna take you somewhere. Ya comin’?”

This time, Rintarou doesn’t hesitate to climb into the front seat next to Atsumu.

_4._

Rintarou knows three things about the Akashi Kaikyō Bridge: one, it’s the longest suspension bridge in the world, two, it’s considered a tourist attraction and three, he has never had a reason to cross it.

Never before today, at least.

Today he’s in the passenger seat of Atsumu’s truck in a parking lot somewhere in Iwaya, and Atsumu is in the back taking a nap with his legs up on the seats. Rintarou twists around to poke Atsumu on the shoulder.

“What’re we doing in Iwaya? Napping?”

“Leave me alone, Rin,” is what he gets as an answer, sleepily slurred out. “I drove ya here at ass o’clock. Lemme sleep.”

“I didn’t ask you to drive me here,” Rintarou counters. He doesn’t point out that the whole reason that they’re here at ass o’clock is _because_ Atsumu couldn’t sleep, and by sheer luck Rintarou had been awake when Atsumu texted him asking if he’s up.

Instead, he says, “I’m driving us back when the sun’s rising. I wanna see the view from the bridge.”

“‘Kay,” Atsumu says, and his head lolls back against the window again. This time Rintarou leaves him be.

He stares out his own window. Iwaya is still asleep this early in the morning, but on the horizon, the sky is slowly lightening up.

So maybe he’s crossing the Akashi Kaikyō Bridge for the view.

Or maybe it’s because Atsumu’s asking, and Atsumu doesn’t know how to take no as an answer.

Maybe Rintarou doesn’t want to say no, either.

_5._

“Raijin, huh?” Atsumu asks.

“You asked that already,” Rintarou says. “We’re also on the way to my tryouts.”

They’re somewhere on the road between Kobe and Hiroshima two days before his tryouts, because Atsumu is a dick who wouldn’t let Rintarou take the train to Hiroshima. Instead, he’d insisted on driving Rintarou to tryouts, and told him that he’s tagging along so that he could sightsee in Hiroshima.

Rintarou didn’t have it in him to turn down Atsumu.

“Why didn’t ya try out for the Black Jackals?” Atsumu is asking now.

Rintarou shrugs. He’s thought about it. Atsumu plays for the Black Jackals, and having Atsumu set to him would be like high school all over again. Atsumu setting to him would be a good thing. _Too_ good, maybe.

He can’t make his life decisions based on what Atsumu does and where Atsumu is.

“Why?” Rintarou asks back. “Scared that you won’t be able to beat me?”

Atsumu scowls. Rintarou can see it from the corner of his eyes. “Yer not even on the team yet, Rin,” Atsumu says.

“Have faith in me,” Rintarou tells him. “You wouldn’t be driving me to tryouts if you didn’t think I’d make it.”

“I do. Have faith in ya, I mean.”

The admission is so unexpected and so genuine that it makes Rintarou pause. He sneaks a glance at Atsumu. Atsumu’s hands are tight grips around the steering wheel.

For a moment, the thought of brushing his fingers over Atsumu’s crosses Rintarou’s mind.

He brings his hands to his knees instead. “Yeah, well,” Rintarou says. “I guess I’ll try out for the Black Jackals if I don’t pass these tryouts.”

Atsumu barks out a laugh. “Rin, if Raijin won’t take ya, the Jackals won’t either,” he says, but Rintarou knows he means, _They’ll take you. You’ll make the tryouts._

_6._

“Oh, _fuck_ , Rin,” Atsumu whines, his hips jerking to meet Rintarou’s.

Rintarou moans—embarrassingly loudly—and bites down a mark at Atsumu’s throat for that.

Somehow they’ve managed to make their way out of the club and into the backseat of Atsumu’s truck, and Rintarou is finding himself quickly sobering up from the alcohol and getting drunk on Miya Atsumu.

Atsumu’s body is pinned down underneath Rintarou’s own now, with his head thrown back against the truck window. It’s probably not the most comfortable position in the world. But he’s not complaining, so Rintarou grinds down again.

Atsumu makes another pretty noise. “Rin,” he gasps. “There’s—” Rintarou kisses his neck again. Atsumu tugs on his hair. “ _Fuck_ , Rin. Wait a sec.”

He pauses to look at Atsumu. There’s something about the way Atsumu looks right now, wild and messed up and _hungry_.

“Lube,” Atsumu breathes out. “In the compartment. You’re fucking me.”

Rintarou laughs. Of course Atsumu would keep lube in his truck compartment.

But then Atsumu fucking _pouts_ , and Rintarou doesn’t think twice before scrambling off Atsumu—if only to search the bottle of lube so he can fuck Atsumu in the backseat of his truck.

_7._

The backseat of Atsumu’s truck is loaded with boxes filled with Osamu’s onigiri—ready to be sold at the MSBY Black Jackals’ home turf for today’s game against EJP Raijin—with said onigiri chef himself squashed up against one side of the truck.

Rintarou snorts when he glances back from where he’s settled in the passenger seat. Osamu doesn’t look pleased, so Rintarou takes out his phone and snaps a picture of a grumbling Osamu and his onigiri. “Looking good,” he says.

“Oh, fuck ya,” Osamu shoots back. To Atsumu, he adds, “Why’s he in the front seat anyways? I’m yer brother, ya fuck.”

Atsumu throws Rintarou a grin. Rintarou smiles back. “Ya really wanna know?” Atsumu says, and Rintarou can tell that he’s smirking at Osamu through the rearview mirror. “Rin has front seat privileges ‘cause he sucked my dick last night. Stop complainin’.”

Osamu pretends to gag. “Yer fuckin’ gross,” he says, and Atsumu yelps when Osamu kicks at the back of his seat.

Rintarou snickers. It gets Osamu to turn to him. He catches Osamu rolling his eyes, and listens to him say, “Yer not off the hook either, Sunarin. Fuckin’ gross. Ya need better taste, too.”

 _Well, too late for that,_ Rintarou thinks.

_8._

The first thing Rintarou says after he straps on his seatbelt is, “Osamu tells me you like me.”’

Atsumu whips his head to look at Rintarou. He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Then, in a voice that makes it sound like a challenge, he asks, “And if I do? Whatcha gonna do about it, Rin?”

Rintarou thinks back to the kisses he _very_ publicly planted on Atsumu’s lips at the Black Jackals’ practices. He thinks of the nights he ditched the Raijin dorms in favour of a hotel room whenever Atsumu visited. He says, “I was hoping you do, considering the number of times we’ve fucked.”

Atsumu’s eyes widen. Rintarou forces himself to not look away. He watches Atsumu’s lips pressing together, then his tongue darting out, and finally his mouth opening again. “Well,” Atsumu starts. His voice is surprisingly steady. “I do like ya. A lot.”

“Okay,” Rintarou says. He leans back in his seat. “Good. I like you, too.”

And then Atsumu is unbuckling his own seatbelt and leaning over the center console, and Rintarou is letting Atsumu grab him by the shirt and kiss him on the lips.

Rintarou opens his mouth in response. Atsumu slides his tongue in.

When they pull away for air, Atsumu groans out, “Who the fuck says okay when someone tells ‘em they like them?”

Rintarou presses another kiss to Atsumu’s mouth and smirks against his lips. “Whatever,” he breathes out. “You love me.”

He thinks he feels Atsumu mouthing back, _Yeah, I do._

_9._

Rintarou picks up the phone on the third ring.

“We’re not having car sex for a while,” Atsumu says, in lieu of a greeting.

Rintarou blinks. Atsumu’s accent is faded. That’s new. “Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“What? No!”

That’s a relief, at least. Still, there’s a tightness to Atsumu’s voice, and it makes Rintarou grip the phone a little tighter. “What’s wrong?”

“Osamu,” Atsumu growls through the phone. “The fuckin’ bastard—get _this_ , Rin—fuckin’ had _sex_ in my backseat! I was helpin’ him with his stupid crush and _this_ is how he repays me.”

 _Ah_. So Osamu finally got it together and asked Akaashi out—and had sex in Atsumu’s truck, apparently.

Of course Osamu would sort out his feelings through car sex. It makes sense, Rintarou thinks. He’s Atsumu’s twin, after all, and Rintarou is no stranger to the feelings Atsumu has wrung out in the backseat of his truck.

Rintarou almost laughs at how ridiculous this whole situation is. But Atsumu sounds genuinely upset, so he tones down the snark and says, “Just tell him he’s responsible for washing your car—inside and out.”

Then, because he can’t help it, he adds, “And that we’re taking his truck next time.”

There’s a pause on the other line. Then, “God, Rin. Yer a genius.” It’s not hard to tell that Atsumu is probably grinning or smirking or something even if Rintarou can’t see him. “Osamu’s gonna be _pissed_ ,” Atsumu says gleefully. “Thanks, Rin. Love ya!”

Atsumu hangs up.

Rintarou clicks on Atsumu’s contact to open up the message window and types, _Love you too._

He presses enter.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a kudos and/or comment if you enjoyed this fic!
> 
> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/ghostbrides).


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